Time after Time
by padfoot freak
Summary: A Harry/ Lily/ James story. Harry is reckless and has the power to change his past, and the future of the entire magical world. The prequel to Roll Back the Years.


Time after Time

_Prequel to Roll Back the Years._

It had all started with a simple Defense Against the Dark Arts class. They were learning about dueling now. Properly learning it, not like it had been in Harry's second year with his foolhardy teacher at the time, Lockhart. They were supposed to be thinking about who they'd pick to be their second, and he had been sitting in his usual seat, trying to not listen to Ron and Hermione bicker. (As they seemed to continually do, now a days.) 

Hermione though, had an excuse for being peevish. She was taking an extra class this year, and got little sleep. Ron and Harry assumed she had the Time Turner back, since she kept disappearing after class for a few minutes. They never asked though, because she wasn't allowed to them anyway.

"No, Ron, a second should be the person who knows you best," Hermione had argued, and they had continued to squabble the entire night, even after five games of Exploding Snap, and only stopped when Fred and George let lose a Dungbomb in the common room, and they were forced to go to their separate dormitories. 

_Who knows you best?_

_ _

Harry had been hearing Hermione's question all day though. The obvious answers filtered through his mind once more; Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Hagrid, Dumbledore…

Harry shook his head, and stared at the canopy above his bed, marveling at who had been his first thought; a man he never even spoken to. The same man that Harry had inherited his smile, his untidy hair, even his love of Quidditch from. The man who'd fought the most feared wizard of all time for him, who'd ultimately sacrificed his own life for his son's.

James Potter.

His father, the brilliant, and greatly admired James Potter.

What he wouldn't give to have just one chance to talk to his father. It was perhaps his deepest dream, what he prayed for every night. He knew it would never be fulfilled; Dumbledore had crushed that wish last year when he'd confirmed that magic couldn't bring back the dead. 

Back when he'd first learned that he was a wizard, he'd had a crazy, child-like belief that magic could bring back his parents. He had dreamt of staring into the face that looked so much like his own, listening to his father's voice, thanking James for giving him life. 

Of course, it would never happen.

If only he could fall asleep and wake up and have his parents standing over him. To chase after Snitches with his father, and be fussed about his mother…well, kids with parents just didn't know how blessed they truly were. Harry would give up his Firebolt to meet his father. Hell, he'd give up _magic_ to meet his parents.

'That of course is never going to happen,' Harry thought as he rolled over in bed once more. 

After all, magic couldn't bring back the dead.

Or could it?

There were moments like these that Harry wanted to fly out his window- without his broomstick. His thoughts were stretching to their breaking point, making his head throb insufferably. He grinded his forehead with is knuckles, mostly out of habit.

Think Harry, for the love of Merlin, think. 

The pieces and names and ideas were staring to fit together, becoming clearer…James, Sirius, Wormtail, Ron, Hermione…

Hermione!

Harry jumped up, cursing his ignorance. Why he'd never thought if it before…the simple brilliance of it all… 

The Time Turner! Harry had used it before, to save his godfather's life; why shouldn't he use it to go back a few years and see his parents? He could talk to them, tell them that they died…he could save them! All he had to do was tell them Peter was Voldemort's spy, and James and Lily would live, and he, Harry, would finally have his parents back.

Images of a world with Voldemort still in full power didn't enter Harry's mind, and if even they had, they wouldn't have fazed him. At that point in time, Harry couldn't understand the deaths, the agony, or the mere pain that the entire magical world would endure if he changed the past…and the future. His mind was on his father.

Harry was going to meet his parents.

Who ever said magic couldn't let the dead live again?

A/N: This is the prequel to a new story that I'm writing; it will probably be posted in mid February. Reviews are the best thing you can give an author, so please (I'm begging you, can't you tell?) review. Thanks. Mwah.


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